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 The Hex and the Bronze  (6 ratings)by A.C. Englebert Page 2 of 2 The beer was as tasty as the pub was strange. It was a crisp to the taste and warming to the stomach on such a cold evening... it was apparently quite stout too as I felt the warmth that comes from alcohol creeping up from my feet. I looked about for others who I felt sure would eventually turn up for an after work drink, but none had come yet. "Mr. Humboldt then," I began, "was he a brewer all of his life?" "Oh, he dabbled and brewed many things," the bartender chuckled, "are you familiar with the town's history at all?" "Well, yes, as familiar as anyone with his home town, I suppose", I said. The round faced man leaned over the bar while drying a pint glass, "So then you know of the witch burnings", he said with a solemn look on his face. "Certainly I heard about women being arrested on charges of witchery at one point, but as I heard it they were released after the court..." "Oh yes, the women WERE released," he cut me short, "but it was Mr. Humboldt that didn't escape the clutches of their Christian courts!" . There was an angst in his voice I attributed to an obvious dislike of Christianity. He paused a moment as if reflecting upon something and then began again. "He was probably the last witch, well, warlock in his case, done away with in America... quite unfair really. He was reknowned for his brewing ability, and ran the Hex and Bronze very successfully up until the day they came for him." the bartender smirked and shook his head. "He'd been caught before... mixing and burning... some said he was in possession of the Philosopher's Stone, but that was only in the beginning... Mr. Humboldt was of a much darker nature than they could have ever dreamed!" I was too intrigued to leave by now, so I requested another drink and hoped he'd tell more, as he did straightaway. "It happened that one night a group of men who didn't approve of Humboldt's activities sought him out at the farm he owned not too far from here and found him calling upon every name of black spirits too horrid in nature for one to fathom. When they accosted him and threatened to bring him to justice, some nameless atrocity he'd brought forth from the dark constellations smote them all down, except for one who managed to escape and tell the townspeople of his black doings..." I chuckled at this point "Spirits?" I said, jokingly. "Oh yes," he started, "You see, before Mr. Humboldt came over from England, he'd belonged to many secretive fraternities there... some said that he was forced to leave England because he'd been found out there too. But, when the folks of Corinth Falls discovered him, they rounded him up one evening here at this very pub, and burnt him alive right outside in the square for every one to see... quite nasty business." My legs I felt were growing stiff from sitting at the bar, so I decided to stand for a moment but found that I could not as easily as I'd hoped. I began to grow concerned, but dismissed it as the alcohol taking effect, and decided to have one more drink before heading to the depot. Once again the jolly round faced man poured me a pint of stout. "So what of his legacy?" I queried. "He hasn't one to speak of, aside from the pub, which my family has run since," he said. "His farm was ransacked and then burned to the ground by the villagers, who said that such unspeakable things lurked inside that it couldn't remain standing. It was pretty eerie really by all accounts... they said as he burned Mr. Humboldt spoke some tongue that not one of them could make heads nor tails of, and in a tone that sounded more beastlike than human. Then he told the mass of people gathered in the square that he'd have them all to keep in his own corner of hell,and that no generation would escape his vengeance. When it was over, they threw his ashes to the river, and hoped never to see him again." It was then that I knew alcohol couldn't be the cause of the stiffening my body was experiencing. My head began to spin badly and the room about me began to grow dim and small. My friend the bartender's smile grew broader as he asked me gently, "Feel okay do you son?", but I couldn't answer as my jaw began to stiffen as if it were made of rock! I felt myself falling, but could do nothing to stop it and then... blackness... I was awakened by someone whistling a tune that birds would envy, but found that I was completely paralyzed, except for my eyes which I couldn't move but was still able to see from. Then horror overtook me for looming over me was the bartender, only he was of a gigantic proportion. An evil smile which curled around his lips told me that he, and no other was Mr. Humboldt, and it only confirmed my fears when he scooped my minirature, bronzed body into his hand and placed me beside the bronzed figures of my parents upon one of his shelves. Then, mouthing a couplet in some language foreign to my ears, he shaped the great bronze door by what seemed force of will, into a large box of sorts, and placed all the figures inside... and here I sit in this corner of Humboldt's bronze hell.
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